Sunday, April 29, 2012

When her lover severs their relationship just before a long-planned trip to Angkor Wat, Doa stubbornly decides to travel alone. The marvelous sights of the ancient Khmer empire do little to heal the rift in her heart. Che, the mercurial young tour guide, senses her loneliness and offers her comfort and passion. Their connection is far more than physical – but how can two people from such different worlds have a future?
By the way, Citadel of Women just got a wonderful review from Lin Holmes.

If you haven't been there already, be sure to drop by Victoria Blisse's Sunday Snog page and see what other goodies your favorite authors have posted this Sunday!

“Wait!”
This time I listened to the inner voice, despite my arousal. “Do
you have a condom?”

He
sat back on his haunches, looking miserable and needy. “No. Don't
you?”

“I'm
a lesbian, remember?” I regretted these words as soon as they left
my lips. Especially since they weren't strictly true.

Che's
face turned bitter. “I'm sorry. I misunderstood. I shouldn't have
bothered you.” He started to disentangle his limbs from mine. I
grabbed his wrist, pulling him closer.

“No,
don't go. I want you, really I do...”

“You
don't trust me. Because I come from a poor country. You think I'm
diseased.”

“Baby,
it's not you.” I brushed his hair out of his eyes. “It would be
the same with anyone. But look, even if we don't have a condom, you
don't have to leave. Turn around. Let me suck you. And you can lick
me. God, I'm so horny, just the thought is almost enough to make me
come.”

“I
don't know... are you sure?.” Che's uncertainty made him look
young again.

His
brown thighs cradled my head. His cock bobbed inches from my mouth, a
bead of fluid gleaming at the tip. I pressed my pursed lips to the
shiny bulb and flicked the droplet into my mouth. He shuddered. I
slid my tongue along his length, marveling at the hardness, the
maleness of it. His hips jerked forward, seeking more. Not wanting to
tease, I swallowed him whole, sucking for all I was worth.

His
cock pulsed wildly. I thought he would come, but he pulled mostly
out, leaving just the head between my lips. Even with his back to me,
I could hear him panting. “It's okay, baby. Just let go. Fuck my
mouth.”

Tentative
and unsure, he slid back between my lips. I welcomed him a steady
suction. He stroked slowly, trying to maintain control. Gradually his
thrusts became more confident. I tilted my head back, trying to take
him all the way.

He
tasted sour and salty. I could tell he hadn't showered. His dark male
scent rose in my nostrils, novel and exciting. Liquid pooled in my
pussy. My clit throbbed in time with his thrusts. I arched up,
desperate, silently begging for his mouth.

Wetness.
Heat. His tongue slithered through my folds, gathering my juices. His
lips closed on my clit, sucking and twisting, rocking it back and
forth. It was too much. I opened my mouth wide to scream. He rammed
his cock down my throat.

I
was wound into a knot of pleasure that tightened by the instant.
Che's energy was astounding. He sucked me, licked me, stabbing his
tongue into my depths, worrying my flesh like a dog. It was so
different from Laurel's sure, knowing strokes, the gradual way she
led me up the slope and then pushed me off the edge.

All
the while he fucked my face. With the riot of sensation churning in
my cunt, I hardly noticed. The tension grew. My taut muscles
screamed. The pleasure was so intense, it verged on pain.